


Don't Think About It

by MeganRosenberg



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e05 Meeseeks and Destroy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Assault, Violence, mr. jellybean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganRosenberg/pseuds/MeganRosenberg
Summary: An extended, alternate version of the scene in Meeseeks and Destroy where Morty is attacked by King Jellybean in the bathroom, where Morty doesn't escape so easily. Includes Morty's thoughts during and Rick's thoughts afterwards.





	1. Chapter 1

xxxxxx

Chapter 1

xxxxxx

Morty frowned as he made his way into the bathroom of the Thirsty Step. The longer he and his grandfather spent making their way through this adventure, the more Morty feared Rick would be proven right. They'd made a bet, in which Morty hoped to prove an adventure led by him would be safer and more successful than the hectic, terrifying adventures led by Rick. While Morty had been confident his own adventure would be the greatest, he wasn't so sure anymore. His grandpa always seemed so reckless, and Morty always seemed to be the one to suffer from his poor decision-making, which was precisely why Morty wanted so desperately to prove to the man once and for all that an adventure directed by his own more careful watch would turn out better. If Morty made the choices, they'd be the right ones. No one would be nearly killed. Nothing horrible would happen. It would just be a fun adventure, with only enough danger to make it more exciting.

He wasn't sure if his hopes were going to become reality at this point, however. Morty's more careful approach didn't necessarily prevent rather difficult obstacles from getting in their way. First they'd had to face a murder trial because of a freak accident. Now they were at the very top of a very large staircase made of very tall stairs, and he wasn't sure how they were going to get back down... The whole purpose of Morty's adventure had also become to help out the villagers who lived at the bottom of these steps, and he hadn't found a way to do that either.

Deep in thought, Morty looked down as water from the sink dribbled over his fingertips. He hadn't been paying attention when he walked in, but now noticed another person was also standing at the sink, and was now speaking to him.

"How are you today?" The person asked in a friendly voice. "I'm Mr. Jellybean."

Morty couldn't help but to smile. Rick seemed to think Morty's idea of an adventure was a lame joke, but how much more whimsical could an adventure get? Here he was talking to a Jellybean person... A guy actually shaped like a jellybean... Even if Morty and his grandfather were stuck at the top of a giant set of stairs, that alone was pretty cool.

"Hi, Mr. Jellybean. I'm Morty," He introduced himself and then answered the guy's question. "My grandpa and I are on an adventure."

"Nice," Mr. Jellybean grinned. "Is it a fun adventure?"

"I hope so..." Morty let his uncertainty be known as he turned off the sink's water and shook his hands off slightly. "But I'm starting to get nervous that maybe it's gone a little too far off the rails..." He grabbed a paper towel and dried his hands the rest of the way.

Mr. Jellybean smiled at him encouragingly. "Isn't that what adventures do?" He asked in a kindly voice.

Morty smiled back. "Hey... You know what? Y-you're right." Morty reassured himself while agreeing with his new friend. Mr. Jellybean was right. Things weren't going that badly. Being stuck at the top of an unusually large set of stairs wasn't the worst predicament Morty had found himself in during an adventure with his grandpa. "Everything's going fine..." He continued, "I just gotta relax and go with the flow," He added with a smile as he felt his tension begin to melt away. He really did often find that he worried way too much. His adventure was still salvageable... He'd gone on adventures with his grandfather during which he was certain one or both of them would actually die. The issues with this particular quest were nothing compared to that.

"Yeah," Mr. Jellybean agreed in a very cheerful voice as he threw his arms happily in the air and took a step closer to Morty.

Morty smiled until he felt large hands come down on his shoulders. He grimaced and shrunk down ever-so-slightly when he felt his friend's fingers moving softly over his shirt, rubbing his shoulders.

"O-okay," Morty felt entirely awkward at this point as he tried to shrug out of Mr. Jellybean's grip without offending him. He had no doubt in his mind that this conversation had just turned extremely creepy extremely fast, but he still didn't want to offend the guy. Maybe in Jellybean culture, people were a little more handsy. The guy had been so nice up until now, so Morty didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing. "Uh... B-bye..." Morty tried to force another smile as he took a step toward the door. He wasn't exactly good at social interactions even on a normal day. This conversation had gone south so fast that he was actually sweating now.

Before Morty could reach the door, he felt a hard hand grip his arm and pull him back. "Uh, No, stay!" Mr. Jellybean's voice was still deceivingly sweet, but his hands were rough - even bruising. "Go with the flow," The guy said as he moved his hands over Morty's stomach and chest.

With panic beginning to bubble up to the surface, Morty struggled against his attacker. He didn't care if this was just a cultural thing anymore. He wasn't going to play along. "Stop!" He said in as assertive a voice as he could muster. He ended up sounding a lot less strong than he wanted. He shrunk out of Mr. Jellybean's hands and shoved the guy away. "You-you're making me really uncomfortable..." He added as he stepped more quickly toward the door again. He was feeling a lot more desperate to get out of there now. This person clearly had boundary issues.

Mr. Jellybean was much more quick to grab him this time, pulling him back with hard, rough hands and shoving him forward against the cold, hard surface of the bathroom's sink. Morty winced as his chest was crushed against the sink's surface and as his legs were pressed painfully against the front.

"Stop fighting me," The kindly voice from before was gone, along with any bit of gentleness that went along with it. There was nothing careful or at all kind about Mr. Jellybean now. The whimsy of the situation was gone. Morty was only left with terror and dread in his heart and pain in his limbs as he struggled to pull out of the guy's grip. "Just let this happen," his attacker growled as he shoved Morty roughly down and as Morty continued to push against the sink as hard as his arms would allow.

"Get off me!" Morty demanded in a shaking voice. He could feel warm, sticky drool dripping down onto his cheek as he continued trying to push his assailant off of him, and for a moment, he thought he may have actually succeeded when the weight was no longer pressing him harshly into the sink. But his relief was short-lived when he realized he hadn't pushed his aggressor away at all. Mr. Jellybean was simply yanking him up away from the sink by his arms.

With another wince, Morty felt himself thrown harshly into one of the stalls. He stumbled back, landing against a toilet and immediately standing back up and frantically rushing toward the stall's door.

Mr. Jellybean was on him again instantly, pushing him back against the toilet and shoving him down, holding him painfully in place. One of his assailant's hands rested on Morty's leg, pushing down to keep him from standing again while the other pressed against his chest.

"No!" Morty yelped in a panicked, shaking voice. "Stop! Please!" He begged. He wanted to scream, but his breath felt caught in his throat as his attacker began licking his face while still holding him harshly down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease, you sweet little twat," Mr. Jellybean's voice sounded more cruel than ever as he growled into Morty's ear and gripped him harder, running his tongue over the boy's cheek.

Morty squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered as he tried to push his assailant away again. The guy was way too strong - much stronger than Morty would have ever guessed considering he had introduced himself as 'Mr. Jellybean,' and was barely any taller than Morty himself. Now that the guy was on top of him, however, pinning him down with large, strong, bruising hands, Morty realized he seemed bigger now. Maybe he wasn't tall, but he was still sort of bulky, and felt very heavy as he crushed Morty down in the bathroom stall.

With a pained, terrified whimper, Morty opened his eyes when he felt his attacker grip a fist-full of his hair and pull his head back. "Let me go!" Morty screamed as he felt Mr. Jellybean's large hand slide up under his shirt.

"I'm gonna have to get some pictures of you," Mr. Jellybean cooed as he rubbed his hand over Morty's chest, under his clothing.

Morty whimpered and fumbled at his attacker's groping hand, trying desperately to pull it away from him. Mr. Jellybean was too strong.

At that point, Morty knew begging for this to stop wasn't going to work. Struggling to push the guy off of him with his only thought being escape wasn't going to work. He was going to have to do more than that. He was going to have to fight back harder - not just to get himself out of this situation, but to hurt his attacker enough so that he couldn't come after him again.

With a frightened shriek, Morty balled his hand into a fist and brought his arm back, fully prepared to punch his attacker as hard as he possibly could. Unfortunately, Mr. Jellybean seemed to be prepared for this, and grabbed his wrist in a painful, bruising grip before he could land his punch.

Morty whimpered a pained sob as he pulled uselessly at his arm, but felt hope rise in his chest when he heard footfalls nearing the bathroom door.

"Help!" Morty screamed "Hel-" His voice was cut off as his assailant slammed a hard hand over his face. Mr. Jellybean reached back and slammed the stall's door shut behind them and then used his free hand to threateningly squeeze around Morty's neck as the boy reached up with his own hands and gripped at the guy's arms, trying desperately to pull them off of him.

"Shut the fuck up," Mr. Jellybean growled in a low whisper, not even having to tell Morty what would happen if he didn't as he tightened his grip and pressed harder against his captive's face.

Morty whimpered, but didn't try to scream again as the bathroom's door opened. As Morty remained still, crushed down against the toilet as Mr. Jellybean pushed one of his legs between Morty's, he saw a shadow of someone entering the bathroom and walking across the floor.

Mr. Jellybean used his own leg to push Morty's to the side slightly as his grip around his throat and over his mouth and nose increased. Morty found he could barely even breathe under the guy's huge paw, which was making his panic even worse. Did his attacker realize that he was smothering his victim? How long was this part going to go on for? He could kill Morty on accident before whoever had walked into the bathroom finally left.

Morty struggled to move his head back as his lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen. The hand over his face was pressing down harder and harder. He tried to gasp, but could not intake any air, so he struggled harder, causing Mr. Jellybean to grip him harder.

The person in the bathroom with them seemed to be looking for something, as they paced across the floor, opened the door to the stall on the far end, and then started walking back toward the door. Morty knew that even though the hand around his neck would surely tighten, and he might be killed as a result, he had to do something. He had to alert this person of what was happening. His only other choices were to be accidentally smothered to death, or sexually assaulted... or maybe both.

So he attempted to scream under his assailant's hand. Only a tiny, muffled whimper was able to escape Morty's lips, but it seemed to be enough to alert the mystery person that something in the stall was amiss, as the footsteps paused in front of the door.

Morty felt his vision clouding as the hand covering the lower half of his face crushed down even harder, making what teeny, tiny bit of oxygen he had been able to inhale dwindle down to none. He whimpered very softly again as he heard a soft knock at the door.

"You- uh, doin' okay in there?" Morty's eyes widened as he heard Rick's voice on the other side of the door. He thrashed his legs as best as Mr. Jellybean's body would allow and frantically grasped at the hand covering his face, trying to pull it off him long enough to scream to his grandfather that he was in fact not doing okay in here.

But his attacker only gripped him harder, and leaned down closer, crushing him painfully as he stared with angry, threatening eyes into Morty's terrified ones. "Doing fine," Mr. Jellybean called in the falsely cheerful voice he'd used when he first spoke to Morty. "Food poisoning, I guess... Don't order the skarlog poppies," He added with a sarcastic laugh.

"Uh- yeah... I wasn't going to, man..." Rick sounded skeptical. "Hey, have you seen a kid around here? About, uh... four foot... something - uh five... five foot? Four foot... Brown hair, yellow shirt, big dumb eyes... He's like four foot si-sev- like maybe five foot or four... uh... Just.. Have you? Have you seen a kid around here?"

Morty felt tears streaming down his face and catching on the hand still pressing hard over his mouth and nose as Mr. Jellybean grinned down at him and squeezed his throat tighter. "No," He answered in a very upbeat-sounding voice. "No kids..."

With weakening hands, Morty pulled desperately at his aggressor's arms, but simply could not get the guy to budge. He tried his best to scream or whimper or even sniffle or even make a choking sound, but he couldn't. So he settled, once again, on trying to hurt his attacker instead, punching feebly at the guy's broad, thick chest. With each passing moment he felt weaker and weaker as oxygen failed to reach his lungs.

"You sure?" Rick still sounded very suspicious. "He said he was coming in here... That was, uh- like ten minutes ago..."

With pain in his lungs, at this throat, and basically all over his body, Morty stared down under the stall door at his grandfather's feet. It was a sickening feeling to know that his grandfather was only a few feet away, so close to saving him from this, but didn't even know Morty needed saving. Even worse - the man was clearly suspicious, but not suspicious enough. Morty's attacker seemed determined to keep this going even while the boy's grandfather stood a few feet away, so close to rescuing him.

Mr. Jellybean released the grip around his captive's throat in favor of continuing his assault instead, as he answered Rick with indifference. "I'm sure. I wasn't in here ten minutes ago. I haven't seen him. I'd like to be left alone, if you don't mind though. I'm feelin' kinda sick..." He smiled down at Morty as he said this, and as he pushed his hand slowly up under the boy's shirt, while pressing his other hard down over Morty's lips and nose. He knew Morty couldn't scream with his hand over his mouth. The hand around his throat wasn't necessary, but Mr. Jellybean seemed to not know that he was still very much restricting his captive's breathing too... either that, or he didn't care.

Morty didn't know whether to try to pry the hand off his face so he could breathe and maybe get out a good scream or if he should try to stop the guy from touching him. For now, he settled on both, reaching one hand toward his face and prying desperately at the fingers there, and fumbling with panicking, shaking fingers toward the large, bruising hand pushing itself up under his shirt.

Tears streamed down Morty's face as his thin, shaking arms failed to pull his attacker's bruising hands away.

He listened as Rick knocked against the door again, "Morty, you in- Are you in there?"

Morty tried to make any kind of noise as Mr. Jellybean's hand slid down his chest and toward the button of his jeans. More tears gushed over his cheeks as he felt his attacker's rough, strong hand pull the button completely off of his jeans and yank down the zipper.

"He's not in here. Fuck!" Mr. Jellybean's fake-sweet voice was gone again as his frustration with Rick was clearly increasing. "Could you leave me alone? Damn!"

"Morty?" Rick's voice seemed more concerned now as he knocked on the door again, harder and louder this time.

As his assailant's hand pulled at Morty's jeans, tugging them down over his thighs, Morty slammed his foot down as hard as he could, fortunately making contact with Mr. Jellybean's foot and causing the guy to grunt and relax his grip over Morty's mouth just long enough.

Morty inhaled a shaking, pained, desperate gasp of air before screaming in a strained, weak voice, "Rick! Help me!" He managed to squeak before his attacker's hand crushed back down.

It was too late for Mr. Jellybean now. Rick had heard Morty's plea, and nothing could explain that away. Within half a second, the man had kicked at the door hard enough to break the lock. The flimsy door swung inward, slamming loudly against the stall's wall.

Before Morty could even process what was happening, he felt his attacker pulled up off of him. Even so, however, the boy frantically shrunk down, trying to get as far away from the guy as possible as he fell clumsily off the toilet and down onto the floor. Breathing in pained, desperate breaths, he crawled backwards until he was in the corner of the stall as he watched his grandpa punch his aggressor across the face.

Morty whimpered as he inhaled deep, desperate breaths, trying to make up for the several minutes he spent unable to breathe, as he stared with wide, tear-filled eyes as Mr. Jellybean and Rick swung punches at each other. What was he going to do if Rick didn't win this fight?

With a pained groan, Morty dragged himself up to his feet, standing on shaking legs as he pulled his sagging jeans up with one hand and held them in place rather than re-zipping them. There wasn't time for that.

Gripping his pants with one hand, Morty took a few fearful steps forward as Mr. Jellybean landed a particularly hard blow against Rick's ribs, knocking the tall, slender man back against the sink with a loud thud. With an angry shriek, Morty slammed his fish hard into Mr. Jellybean's back and kicked out at the guy's ankles, catching him off-guard enough for him to stumble slightly before turning around and setting his attention back on Morty.

Morty shook his head very slightly as he raised his hands in defense. He already knew he was quite incapable of winning a fight against this guy. He took a step back before he felt a hard hand slam against the side of his face, causing him to stumble back against the toilet in a way that mirrored how Mr. Jellybean had thrown him into the stall earlier.

With a whimper, Morty tried to stand only to find that his attacker was on him again already gripping his wrists in one hand and swinging a hard punch at his ribs with the other.

Morty coughed as pain radiated through his torso and as he kicked out at his attacker. Mr. Jellybean stumbled a step back, but then scowled down at him with fury in his eyes. He raised a fist up, preparing to hit Morty again as all Morty could do was raise his arms up to shield his face and squeeze his eyes shut.

Before he felt the harsh blow, however, he heard a familiar noise followed by what sounded like a watermelon hitting a sidewalk and breaking into a hundred pieces. Before he opened his eyes to see what had happened, he felt a warm, gooey, jelly-like substance rain down on him. He could guess what it was, and really didn't want to actually see it, but he knew he had to come back to reality sooner or later.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a greenish goo exploded all over the stall, all the way up to the ceiling, where it stuck, but also dripped down. The goo covered Morty as well as Rick who stood in the stall's doorway and stared back at him with what could only be described as concern mixed with shock etched in his features.

As Morty stared back at his grandfather and did his best to ignore the disgusting, sticky substance all over the room, he felt a fresh wave of tears overcome him as he brought his hands up to his face, curled in on himself, and began to sob.

xxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

xxxxxx

Chapter 2

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Rick felt actual shock - a rarity for him - as he stood in the stall's doorway and stared at the sight before him. His grandson sat awkwardly on a very dirty-looking toilet, with his feet drawn up onto the rim - the only thing preventing him from falling down into the bowl - which it looked like he hadn't managed to avoid at some point during all this, as his pants were soaked. This same pants, however, were falling down his legs and rested at mid-thigh, revealing boxer shorts that were equally soaked.

Morty's shirt was pulled partly upward, exposing a bit of his stomach as the boy curled in on himself tighter and cried out pitiful sobs. He as well as the rest of the stall was covered in aqua-colored blood... or jelly... or whatever a Jellybean person's body was made of... as Rick had succeeded in shooting the guy into a million slimy pieces. It had been his intent to beat the shit out of him first - to make damn sure that he would suffer for what he'd done, and he'd been doing that, until the creep had turned back on Morty instead. Rick was all for making the guy suffer before death, but he couldn't do that at the expense of his grandson. Rick didn't mind taking a few punches himself, but he couldn't let Morty take any more than he already had.

"You- uh... You okay, Morty?" Rick frowned as he took a cautious step forward. He wanted to pull his grandson up off the nasty toilet he was practically falling into. The thing seemed to be built for people larger than average humans. He didn't want to startle the kid though, so for now, he kept his hands to his sides.

Morty sniffled and shook his head, but didn't answer as he continued covering his face with his hands.

"You wanna get out of here?" Rick wondered. "I- uh..." He wasn't sure what to say. How could he fix this? "I can... uh... Hey, I won a lot of shmeckels back out there... we can pay Slippery Stair to take us down and give it to the towns people down- down there at the bottom of the stairs. How a- how about that?"

Morty sniffed again as he lowered his hands and looked up at his grandfather with a trembling lower-lip and tears in his eyes. "Maybe we should j-just go - go home..." He suggested in a small, defeated voice. "Y-you were right. Let's just go home..."

Rick frowned. Morty had been so excited to set out on an adventure of his own - that he was in charge of, determined to show Rick that his own careful choices would lead them down a less-dangerous path. And he'd been so close to winning that bet too. His adventure really had been pretty safe, and had ended up being a relatively interesting story too... up until now... Things had taken a major turn for the worse, but Rick didn't want Morty to blame himself for this. It wasn't due to his carelessness or poor choices that this had happened. This could have happened to anyone, on an adventure or not. This was no one's fault but the sick fuck who attacked him.

If anyone else was to blame, it would have been Rick, not Morty. Rick should have been looking out for the kid better. Everyone knows it doesn't take ten minutes to take a piss. Rick should have known something was up so much sooner when Morty didn't come back... but Rick had been too into gambling and karaoke. His grandson was unaccounted for, for ten long minutes, in a foreign and dangerous land, and Rick had been singing and playing cards. His irresponsibility had gotten Morty hurt - again - and this time was far worse than usual. He should have never let Morty go off by himself in the first place.

"Well, just-" Rick paused, trying to find the right words."Let's-uh... think about this a minute..." He reached his hand down toward Morty, offering to help him stand. "I don't think we should go home just yet. We've got unfinished business..."

Morty took his hand and allowed Rick to pull him up, but Rick was surprised to find the boy didn't stop at being helped to his feet. He flung himself forward, wrapping his arms around Rick's stomach and burying his face in the man's chest as he began to sob again.

Rick gulped as he looked down at his grandson. He put his hand carefully against the boy's back and hugged him close. "You're alright," He assured him. "You're ah... You'll be okay..." He wasn't sure what to say... What had happened was not okay. Morty was alive, but was he alright? Rick didn't really know. He knew the boy had gone to the bathroom and hadn't come back for at least ten minutes. He knew his grandson was trapped with this sick fuck that whole time. He didn't know what all had happened... But judging by the kid's pants being pulled down, his shirt being wrinkled up over his stomach, and scratches, bruises, blood, and sweat covering his exposed skin, Rick couldn't be sure just how far this had gone before he'd had the good sense to come looking for the poor kid.

"I should have never-" Morty gasped between sobs. "I shouldn't-" He interrupted himself with another shaking whimper. "I'm so stupid."

"No-" Rick patted his back carefully and put his other hand against his head as he hugged the boy close. Rick wasn't exactly used to being compassionate or caring - at least not outwardly... but it was hard not to be with Morty sobbing right here in front of him. "You're not stupid... at least, your stupidity isn't at fault.. Uh... I mean... You can be kinda stupid sometimes. Not this time though. You did everything right. I'm the one who fucked up."

Morty sniffed back tears and shook his head.

Rick frowned as he stared down at Morty, whose trembling arms were still wrapped tightly around his waist. He'd never seen the boy so shaken before and was genuinely concerned over what he knew had happened and what else he feared may have happened. While his ordinary way of dealing with anything involving emotional pain was to just ignore it until he kinda forgot about it, he couldn't quite do that in this instance. He was too worried.

"Are you hurt?" Rick wondered in a concerned voice. "I mean... duh, right? Uh..." He felt so awkward, but he needed to know that Morty wasn't physically hurt in any way that was significant. "Did he-" He wasn't sure how to ask. "Do you uh..."

"I'm okay," Morty sniffed. "I think so anyway... He hit me and grabbed me really hard but I- I don't think any-anything's broken or-or anything like that... I was mostly-" He sniffed back more tears. "Mostly just-just scared... You found me before he- before he could-" He trailed off and looked at the wall rather than finishing that thought.

Rick nodded. While he was glad to hear that, it didn't erase everything that did happen. Maybe his grandson's attacker hadn't gotten the chance to actually rape him, but he'd still hurt him, and had obviously traumatized the boy quite a bit. Just because the sick creep had failed to take this as far as he'd wanted to didn't mean that he hadn't succeeded in sexually assaulting him. Yanking off a fourteen year old's clothes and grabbing all over him was still sexual assault. Even if it could have technically been much worse, that didn't make it at all okay.

Frowning, Rick contemplated what to say or do next. Even though Rick felt this was a very serious issue, he didn't want his grandson to feel any worse than he already did. Maybe Rick's usual philosophy of pushing things like this out of his mind and ignoring them wasn't working for him right now, but he hoped that it could perhaps work for Morty. The kid didn't need to be thinking about this - ever again, really. It was done. Over. Was never going to happen again. Rick would personally make sure of that... So Morty had no need to worry over it.

Rick needed to make this as okay as he could - in Morty's mind at least. "Whatdaya say we get cleaned up... get all this green shit off us, and take those schmeckles down to the village? You'll be a hero to those sad fucks."

Morty sniffed back tears but didn't answer.

"Hm?" Rick persisted. He had to get Morty to forget about this at least for a minute, to end his adventure on a high-note. "A good adventure needs a good ending," He tried in as friendly a voice as he could manage.

With a small smile, Morty looked up at him. Tears still shown in the boy's eyes, but he looked to be in higher spirits already. "R-really? You-you think my adventure is good?"

"Sure," Rick tried not to sound too fake. Morty's idea of an adventure had been really fucking weird and pointless, but the kid didn't need to know that. "It's been great. Cute little, uh- village of fantasy peasant people, giant court, stair-shaped motherfuckers in here, fucking gambling, winning uh- winning all those schmeckles... It's been fuckin' wild. We can't let it end now. We've come too far to give up."

"Yeah... Uh- Okay," Morty's smile looked even more genuine now as he looked up at Rick.

"Let's get cleaned up," Rick offered again, putting his hand lightly on Morty's shoulder and leading him out of the stall.

Morty followed him out toward the sink, frowning at his reflection as he tugged his shirt down over his stomach and pulled up his pants, zipping them but frowning even more when he found the button was missing. As fresh tears filled Morty's eyes, Rick shook his head.

"Don't think about it, Morty," He insisted quickly as he shrugged out of his lab coat and threw it into one of the sinks. He turned on the water, hoping to rinse all the aqua goo off the garment with minimal effort as he focused his attention on Morty.

Grabbing a handful of paper towels and turning on the second sink, Rick began working on cleaning the nasty, jelly-like blood off his grandson's face. Morty held still and allowed his grandfather to carefully run the damp paper-towel over his cheek.

"H-how did you know I- I was in there?" Morty asked out of nowhere after being silent for several minutes. "I-in the stall, I mean. How d-did you know? M-Mr. Jellybean kept saying no one was th-there but him, b-but you knew..."

Rick shrugged as he managed to clean the last bit of goo off his grandson's face and moved down to his neck. "He just sounded like a creepy fucker, Morty," Rick explained. "I-I didn't know you were in there. I just had a suspicion that something was off with what the guy was saying."

More tears welled up in Morty's eyes, but he smiled slightly and nodded as he grabbed a handful of paper towels and began clearing some of the nasty blood-goo off Rick's shirt. "Thank you for f-finding - for coming to find me, Rick," Morty spoke as he averted his eyes. "I- I thought I was pretty much- I thought I wasn't gonna get-get away. He was really strong. I didn't think a giant jellybean guy could be so violent and forceful... b-but he was... And thanks for being suspicious, because- because he was choking me and I c-couldn't breathe, but I could see you-your feet under the door and I c-couldn't say anything, and-and I was scared you'd l-leave because- but you didn't... I thought he w-was just g-gonna keep hurting me, e-even with you s-standing right-right there..." Morty rattled off in a shaking, out of breath voice, failing to intake a single breath until the whole paragraph had been said.

Shaking his head, Rick frowned and continued doing his best to clean the sticky aqua substance off Morty's skin. He almost had left. When the guy said he was just sick with food poisoning, Rick didn't think it was so far-fetched. He had come so damn close to walking right out of the bathroom and leaving Morty in there. He'd heard a tiny whimpering sound, but didn't know it was Morty. There was a moment, before he persisted and continued questioning his grandson's attacker, that he was ready to walk back out into the pub and search and ask around elsewhere. He had even wondered if maybe Morty had gotten upset with him and left.

The thought of Morty held down in that stall, being choked and hurt while Rick stood right on the other side of the door made Rick's heart ache. He didn't often care about most things. He was indifferent more often than not, but knowing that Morty had been helplessly held down, unable to speak or breathe while wondering if his grandfather was going to save him or just walk away broke his heart. It broke even more when Rick considered the fact that he had come so close to giving up on the bathroom and searching elsewhere. What would have happened if Rick had pushed his tiny suspicion aside and believed the guy?

Morty didn't need to know how close he'd come to being left behind. "W-well everything's fine now. Just don't think about it." Rick tried to get his grandson to forget about this for the time being. "You-you're gonna make those villagers real happy M-Morty. You made them a promise and you- ya stuck to it."

Morty smiled. "Y-yeah... I did stick to it. M-maybe this adventure wasn't perfect... I m-mean, it was actually pretty scary- like ah a lot more scary th-than normal... b-but it's all gonna work out. Right, Rick?"

"That's right," Rick forced a smile back down at his grandson. "It'll all work out..."

xxxxxx


	3. Chapter 3

xxxxxx

Chapter 3

xxxxxx

After paying Slippery Stair to take them back down the stairs, Rick and Morty handed over the schmeckles to the grateful villagers. While the villagers thanked Morty and Morty looked genuinely happy again, Rick had sat back and watched with his arms crossed over his chest. He wondered if Morty's mind was as disturbed by this as Rick's was. He was certain the boy hadn't forgotten the assault already, but he did seem preoccupied by the praises of the villagers now. Was he able to just not think about it and actually avoid feeling the fresh memories crushing him down? Or was his mind troubled even when he looked distracted? Rick couldn't tell...

As soon as Rick heard one of the villagers whispering to another about the shocking news that their king had been found blown to bits in the bathroom of The Thirsty Step, he'd gotten Morty out of there. The last thing his grandson needed was to be reminded of the ordeal, or worse - have to face another convoluted court trial. Explaining that King Jellybean had been killed in self-defense wasn't going to get them off the hook for this very easily. It takes a lot to convince a village that their loving king was a child molester.

So they'd used a portal to go back home and had somewhat awkwardly parted ways once they reached the garage. Rick didn't know what Morty had gone off to do, but he knew what he wanted, and that was to drown his sorrows with alcohol.

For the past couple hours, Rick had been tinkering with some of the devices he had been working on while taking frequent swigs out of a bottle of hard liquor. Even though he was fairly confident he was fucking up the projects he experimenting on more than advancing them in any way, he kept messing around with them, if only to give himself something to do. The longer he worked, the more he drank, and the more the various elements of the device he was messing with were destroyed. He couldn't even think right now. He was too preoccupied with feelings of regret and guilt.

Morty was a very dependent person - and of course he was - he was a child... Though Rick was constantly putting him in danger during their missions, the old man also always kept a close watch on the boy. He knew how to keep Morty relatively safe. Even if Rick appeared careless a lot of the time, he wasn't as bad as he seemed. He did keep Morty close most of the time. Even if he got them into dangerous situations, he never left Morty behind or took off running without dragging Morty along with him.

During the adventures Rick led, he expected danger - so he watched Morty better. He was always ready for some giant creature to jump out and attack or for someone to start shooting at them. He was ready for it. Morty's stupid fucking fantasy land adventure had seemed so safe. Rick had let his guard down, and Morty had suffered because of it.

With a frustrated groan, Rick slammed down the screwdriver he'd been using to fiddle with one of his inventions and took another long drink from his bottle of alcohol, emptying the last of it into his mouth and down his chin before letting it fall from his hand and crash against the floor.

"Son of a bitch," Rick grumbled as he snatched at the air well after the bottle had already landed with a crash. "Whatever," He grumbled when he remembered it had been empty anyway. He left it where it landed, hoping he wouldn't forget it was there and step on it later.

Rick stood and paced across the garage floor before stumbling and falling against an old, beat up couch he'd stolen from one of the neighbors while they had been moving in. The couch served as a place for him to sleep when he was too lazy or too drunk to make his way into the house after a night of working in the garage, but he rarely used it even for that - often opting to just pass out and sleep in the middle of the floor instead. He didn't ever sleep that long anyway.

"Rick," Rick looked toward the door, his vision spinning as he noticed Morty standing awkwardly in the doorway between the house and the garage. "Can- Can I talk to you for a minute?"

With a groan, Rick dragged himself up so that he was in a sitting position and patted the cushion next to him. "S-sure thing, Morty." He slurred. He dreaded what the boy might want to talk about. Nothing was going to fix what had happened. They didn't need to talk about it. It had happened. Rick had fucked up. He felt bad enough about it already.

Morty offered a small smile as he made his way across the floor and sunk down onto the couch. He sat up straight with his hands on his lap as he stared out the open garage door into the darkness of the street. "Did you mean to leave the door open, Rick?" Morty wondered with a frown as he glanced over at his grandfather.

"Uh-" Rick looked over toward the door and then turned back to Morty. He didn't remember opening the door, but figured it didn't matter much whether it was open or not. "I, uh... I don't know, Morty... I dont know... W-what do you want, Morty?"

Morty frowned and looked down. "I know you t-tell me to just not think about things that are bothering me... B-but that's really hard - really hard to do, you know? I... I feel bad, Rick. I can't - I'm not like you. Things bother me, Rick. Y-you might not - you might not care much when s-scary or horrib-terrible things happen ar-around you. It might be, you know, easy for you, for you to just not think about it and forget, but I don't f-forget that fast..." He was talking so quickly, stumbling over his words even worse than Rick was - and Rick was quite drunk.

Rick stared at him. What did he want though? What did he want Rick to do about it? "And...?" He asked, unable to keep himself from being a little more blunt than he probably should have been right now.

Morty pouted and glanced toward the door back to the house as if contemplating abandoning this conversation. "I-" He paused. "I just wanna... I wanna t-talk things out... Try to make myself n-not feel so bad."

Rick shook his head and sighed loudly as he leaned dramatically back against the couch. "Why would you feel bad? The guy who should feel bad is dead. The other guy who should feel bad is too drunk to feel bad."

Morty leaned forward slightly and turned toward his grandfather so he could look directly into his eyes. "I feel bad because I made a stupid mistake and al-almost got-" He paused. "I don't know why you'd feel bad, but I feel bad b-because I screwed up. I-I overestimated my-myself, and said the wrong thing to the wrong person, and led him on, and-"

"No. No no no no," Rick shook his head and sat up straighter, putting his hands heavily on Morty's shoulders and staring into his eyes. "No. No, Morty... Lead him on? Wh-what? What the fuck are you even saying right now? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"N-no, Rick," Morty frowned. "I'm not. I did a lot of dumb things, s-said dumb things... You weren't there... I-I messed up... Over and over again. I-I'm really s-stupid, Rick."

Rick narrowed his eyes. He couldn't believe he actually had to explain to Morty that it wasn't his fault some disgusting creep had decided to attack him. "W-what exactly did-" He paused to belch, "What did you say or do to make you think this is some-somehow your fault?"

Morty looked down at his hands, which were resting on his lap. Rick noticed the boy had showered since they got back. He was wearing a t-shirt, boxer shorts, and socks. Rick could see bruises forming up and down his arms, on his face, and around his neck. Jerry and Beth were going to be pissed with Rick if they noticed those bruises.

"Hm?" Rick repeated as he stared into his grandson's eyes. He couldn't help but to feel aggravated with the kid. How could Morty think it was his own fault that someone had attacked him? "What do- do y-you think you did wrong?" Rick asked, slurring his words and glaring down at his grandson.

"Lots of things," Morty shrugged and let out a tired sigh. "First, I got arrogant and thought I could lead an adventure that was safe. I-I mean, there's, there's a reason, you know, w-why we're always almost dying. Adventures are- they're dangerous, Rick. The universe is chaotic and terrible, and you-you were right about that. It's not just you that causes this stuff... It's adventures in general. I got cocky. I th- I thought I could... I was stupid, Rick."

Rick frowned. He didn't want Morty to be as jaded and pessimistic as his grandfather. "The universe isn't all bad, Morty. Those little stair people were fuckin' adorable, right? Your adventure was fine. It was great even. There just happened to be a weird, creepy guy there. Those fuckers exist all over the place. It wasn't anything y-you did wrong."

Morty smiled at Rick's mention of the stair-shaped people from the pub, but frowned and looked back down as soon as his grandpa finished his thought. "I wasn't careful enough..." Morty pouted as he said this. "And I did kinda lead him on... He- while he was pushing me back into the stall, and w-wouldn't let me leave, he said I was being a tease, and maybe I was... I didn't know I was doing it... I-I didn't mean to-"

"You're fucking joking," Rick stared at him. "There's no fucking way for a fu-fucking fourteen year old kid to be a tease. T-that guy was a grown ass man- er- Jellybean fuckin' thing... He should'a known better... The second you told him to back off, he should'a backed off - no matter what kinda fuckin' signal he may have thought you were sending - wh-which, by the way - I highly fucking doubt you were sending any kinda signal, intentional or not. Holy fuck, Morty..."

Morty shook his head as tears pooled in his eyes. "He was t-talking to me, a-and I told him all about our adventure. It wasn't any of - of his business, but I just t-told him anyway... I trusted him right away, like an idiot... and then I implied that- you know, that I was cool with-like whatever. I said it. I said I was- that I should- That I should just go- go with the flow, like I was up for anything... and then he said it later, that I sh-should go with the flow, right? Like- like he thought I was talking about something else... Maybe I accidentally suggested something to him, without, you know, without knowing what I was saying... and when he grabbed me at first, I didn't tell him no. I- I just kinda shrugged away. I didn't wan-want to be rude... and then he grabbed me again, and m-maybe I shoulda- should have been more clear..."

"I'm sure you were clear enough," Rick frowned. "He just didn't care. This is his fault, not yours. You did nothing wrong. You should be allowed to walk into a bathroom by yourself without being attacked. You should be allowed to fucking talk to someone without them thinking you - you want them to fucking molest you. Son of a bitch, Morty. You're a kid... Even if you blatantly came onto him, he had no right to lay a damn finger on you. Don't blame yourself for this."

With a sigh, Morty leaned back against the couch. "That was really scary back there, Rick," He spoke in a small voice. "Y-you know, it kinda seems... seems like placing the blame some-somewhere more controllable would ma-make it less scary. I-if you're telling me there's - that there's nothing I could h-have done different-differently, then... how..." Morty's voice was increasing in volume as he sounded like he was losing control over his emotions. "So- so this kinda stuff... this kinda stuff is just gonna happen sometimes? That's it? Well... well I guess fr-from now on, if, you know, if I go to the bathroom, and - and I'm not back in, you know, like two minutes, please come and f- and find me, Rick... Because I- What else can I do? I can't go to a bathroom by myself? There's nothing I can do? Th-this is just part - part of life then, huh? I guess- I shouldn't, you know, talk to anyone, you know, like ever again..."

Rick shook his head and closed his eyes. "You don't need to do anything any different, Morty," Rick told him. "I'm the one who fucked up this time. I'll admit that."

Morty frowned and narrowed his eyes. "N-no you didn't... You didn't do anything wrong..."

"Yeah, I did, Morty..." Rick sighed and put his fingertips against his forehead. "I didn't wanna g-get into this with you... To talk about this... I didn't wanna think about it, but I mostly didn't want you to think about it. This is heavy shit, Morty... I'm irresponsible and I fucked up."

"You-" Morty hesitated. "You are irresponsible... But I-"

"No, no no no no," Rick put his finger over Morty's lips, silencing him. "Shhh. Shut... No. You did nothing wrong. How many fucking times do I have to say it? I'm your fucking grandpa, Morty. I'm supposed to protect you."

"You did," Morty interrupted, frowning and shrinking down when Rick scowled down at him. "Rick, you did protect me..."

"Not fast enough," Rick stared at him. "When you left me at the table in the pub, I was thinking, 'Good. Go. Get away from me. Whatever...' You were pissing me off, Morty. I was sick of your shit... So you left, and I didn't sit there thinking, 'Better make sure my fourteen-year-old fucking grandson makes it back okay after wandering off all alone in a strange fucking pub in the middle of weird fantasy-fucking-land...' No, I was thinking about gambling." Rick heard his own voice raising in volume as he was becoming more and more upset with himself. "I didn't care what you were doing. I was out there playing cards and singing karaoke while you were being attacked. No one was looking for you. You were gone for ten minutes, at least... Maybe even longer. And no one was looking for you. NO ONE. That was my job. I was supposed to be the- the one who was thinkin' about that. Thinking about when you should be back and looking for you if it took too long... But I didn't care."

"But you did come and look for me, Rick," Morty squeaked. "If anyone else heard me screaming, or heard him throw- you know, throwing me around, they didn't come to see what was going on. No one came in but you. I th-thought I didn't need you with me. If I can't blame myself for this, you can't blame yourself either. I do need you, Rick, and you did exactly what you were supposed to... Exactly what I needed you to do."

Rick stared at his grandson, at the bruises on his skin and at his wide eyes, brimming with un-shed tears. Rick wanted to cry too. Morty didn't have the strength to protect himself a lot of the time. Both Rick and Morty knew that. "I just wish I'd have been quicker, Morty," Rick spoke in a more calm voice.

"I wish I had been quicker too," Morty forced a nervous laugh. "I mean, I started to realize this guy was - you know, being k-kinda weird, and I decided to leave, but I wa-wasn't fast enough either... Still not my fault. Not your fault... Only his. You-you said it earlier, Rick. Y-you said it was no one's fault but his. I can accept that if you can."

Rick sighed and leaned back against the couch. He felt so defeated. He'd put Morty in danger countless times, but he'd never expected something like this. Sure, he knew things like that were totally possible... it just seemed to him more like something to avoid in everyday life. Something he could make sure didn't happen just by telling Morty not to get into any strange vans or take candy from weird dudes in trench coats. During adventures where actual monsters might jump out from behind a rock and literally eat people alive, he didn't think he'd have to deal with something like this.

The dangers he was used to were easy to spot - fire, guns, monsters, bombs... It was much more difficult to know when some random guy was thinking nasty thoughts and considering acting upon them. Maybe Morty was right - maybe Rick hadn't fucked up as much as he thought. When Morty said he was going to the bathroom, Rick had no reason to believe something sinister waited for his grandson there. Most young teenagers could go into a public bathroom without anyone worrying about their well-being. And Rick had gone to check on him as soon as he realized the boy hadn't ever come back. He didn't know he should have been timing the kid. He didn't know something like this would happen.

"It's no one's fault but his, Rick," Morty told him again as he leaned against his grandfather's shoulder and closed his eyes. "It wasn't that bad anyway... He didn't hurt me that bad. It was scary, but I've been scared before... B-big deal, right?" He offered a slight laugh. "It's like you said... Just don't think about it. I'm okay now. It was scary, but it's over. I-I just won't think about it."

Rick nodded slowly as he put his arm around his grandson's shoulders and stared out the open garage door. His vision still swam slightly due to him still being heavily under the influence of all the alcohol he'd consumed, but he was largely used to that by now. He could tell Morty was making light of a situation that honestly bothered him quite a bit. He wouldn't have come out here to talk about it if he didn't care. Rick certainly didn't want to push him, and talking probably wouldn't solve shit... but he wondered if he was a bad influence on his grandson in more ways than he ever realized. Rick taught himself to repress negative feelings, and it probably wasn't healthy... Now he was teaching Morty to do the same thing.

"You don't have to keep any secrets, M-Morty," Rick finally spoke in a slurred voice as he leaned his head over so that his cheek rested on the top of Morty's head. "You can- uh... talk about shit if, you know, if that's something that makes you feel better... I- uh... I know I say 'don't think about it,' when something fucked up happens... but look how that's working for me," He offered a sarcastic laugh.

Morty snuggled closer against Rick's side. "It's working fine," He spoke in a calm, even voice.

Rick exhaled. He didn't want his grandson to grow up and be like him. His mind was a mess. Repressed feelings never went away completely. They always showed themselves later, maybe in the form of rage or alcoholism, or even just being reckless. He wanted Morty to care about himself more than Rick cared about himself. He didn't want Morty to be the sad, aloof disaster Rick was.

"Well... you know I don't talk about shit... like, if anything's fuckin' my mind, it stays in my mind," Rick reminded him. "But you're not me... and you can do whatever - whatever you need to do, or want to do. What happened to you was fucked up. You- You don't gotta pretend like it wasn't."

"I know," Morty leaned against Rick more heavily as he yawned. "Y-you don't have to pretend like stuff's okay either, Rick, you know, w-when it's not."

Rick squeezed his arm protectively around his grandson's shoulders as he continued staring out the garage door. "I know," He frowned.

As Rick continued staring out the garage door, he held securely but gently onto his grandson as Morty fell into a peaceful sleep. Maybe talking about things was therapeutic, but it was also really painful. Talking out emotions was really fucking terrifying... It was one of the things Rick feared most... and he was honestly offended with himself right now for being so aware of his emotions after drinking so much... That's not how it was supposed to work.

He glanced down at Morty who was breathing slow, even breaths as he snuggled against Rick's chest, gripping his grandfather's shirt in his hands as though fearful that failing to hold on would make the man disappear.

"I'm sorry, Morty," Rick spoke in a low whisper so that no one else could hear him. Rick's grandson was a very vulnerable person - he was still a child - a teenager, but pretty small anyway. He was naive, gullible, and often way too trusting. Hell, he'd probably seen that jellybean-shaped fucker and immediately trusted him just because he seemed like such a fucking cartoonish joke. Morty didn't expect someone who looked like a candyland character to hurt him. He needed someone to be watching out for him, especially if he was going to be accompanying Rick on his adventures.

Even if he and Morty had both agreed that what had happened was no one's fault except King Jellybean's, Rick didn't know that he was ever going to stop wondering what he could have done to prevent this. He knew Morty was naive and not exactly physically strong. He knew his grandson was vulnerable to all sorts of things. Rick could have easily been more careful.

He and Morty were so damn lucky that things hadn't been much worse. If Rick had decided to go another round at karaoke or play some more cards, Morty would have been hurt so much more than he already had been. Maybe he would have even been killed. Rick was able to repress a whole lot of emotional pain, but there was no way he'd have been able to repress that.

He sighed as he continued watching his grandson sleep. "I won't let anyone ever do anything like that to you... ever again. I promise," He said in another low whisper.

"I know," Morty whispered back as he gripped Rick's shirt even tighter.

Rick grimaced. Morty wasn't supposed to hear that. "You awake?" He wondered in a quiet voice, leaning forward slightly so he could see the boy's face better. Morty didn't answer. He must have been talking in his sleep.

With an exhausted exhale, Rick leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. He had to let this go. He'd pushed everything else he didn't want to think about to the back of his mind. This ordeal needed to join the others. Things like this could never be erased from his memory completely, but Rick was damn well going to try.

'Don't think about it,' He thought silently to himself as he held his grandson close. Things could have been so much worse. Morty was safe. Morty was okay. He was resilient. What he'd been through was rough and terrifying, but it could have been much, much worse. He was fine now. He was fine. Morty was fine.

'Don't think about it,' Rick thought to himself again as he felt more and more tired. He could feel Morty's chest rising and falling softly against him as the boy was cuddled up very close. The poor kid trusted Rick so much more than he ever should have... He assumed when he was with his grandfather that he would be okay... maybe in danger at times, but always okay in the end. He trusted Rick to keep him from harm, or to at least save him before things escalated too far... Rick not only failed to get Morty's attacker away from him quickly, but also almost failed to save him at all.

He couldn't forget that he'd nearly left the bathroom before realizing Morty was there. He walked right up to the door, talked to the guy who was in the process of attacking his grandson, and almost walked right back out. Morty didn't realize how close he'd come to not being saved at all. 'Don't think about it.' Rick demanded again in his head.

He rubbed his hand gently over Morty's arm, "You're okay," He said softly. He knew Morty was asleep and would never know he said it... He was saying it for himself more than anything. Morty was okay. Everything was fine.

xxxxxx

THE END


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